Dreams of my Soil

I don't know if it's because my DNA kit is on it's way and I'm anxious or if it's the fact that no one is looking for me, but I went to bed thinking about a reoccurring dream I used to have about a house. It was familiar and I just thought of it as imaginary. I'd always end up looking around this house in sometimes a birds eye view. Couldn't be a memory as I don't think I used to fly or anything and I was certainly never that tall. But what if, just yet another what if, it was some kind of young child memory. Too young to find words perhaps. Perception of an infant? It was somehow familiar and didn't always end in tragedy. But it was always the same house, one that I can't clearly recall in my awakened state. I then thought of a post I made earlier about the soil not being mine. Based on the theory some people have about their birth place...their home. Never really having a home or sense of belonging. I made sure my children had a strong sense of family and closeness. I am my own family's roots. I'd like to discover something a little further back although it's not too likely. I pondered about Birth certificate's birth area codes that I just learned about. Each state has one. I don't have one on mine. Boston is the only place that doesn't have one. Could it be that I'm from there? Maybe things were amended in Upstate NY but would they ever admit if I were from another state or country? Seems more than likely I am not from Syracuse. Never felt at home there and maybe I need to approach this search  from a more natural gut instinctive place. Paperwork and Dates etc are not jiving. I fell asleep after my mind got dizzy from these circles. These lies and inaccuracies. I drifted off and I began dreaming.....


The house again...I was in charge of my dream of course, like I always am when I dream, I witness things and change what doesn't look right. I resist the urge to steer away from the truth. The Truth. Where is that? I look in my dream. The soil. I was hoping to find that soil that belonged to me. The familiar. But instead I found a path. One I broke away from (or was torn away from). A broken path. I wasn't sure to go back to where it started or run on ahead to see where it had left off. The bird's eye view was no longer there for me to see. But I learned something. I was a traveler and so were my people. I think I really did have people. I think we were on a journey. One that stopped short. I don't think I was meant to be held up. Unfortunately I was thrown off course and put somewhere I couldn't resume anything. Where I no longer even knew the purpose nor could learn it......I woke up enough to roll over and relieve the pain in my back and neck. Was I little gypsy child? Was I a hippy's baby? Was there a tragedy? Were we fleeing for our lives? Is that why my siblings are not looking for me? Did we represent more than what my infant self could comprehend? Did I spell out that much trouble for all involved?


I know when I emailed the agency that handled my adoption when they replied for me to go to hell basically they made it a point to send a copy of it to GUY WARNER director of VS in NY. Is mine but a flagged case? Did he need to be alerted that the pain in the ass ORPHAN is at it again? I'm at it again. I won't quit this time. I want to know my Birth Right. My heritage. I want to own my soil. I want to Know has now become I will know. I think I already do know. I think I'll dream again tonight. I'll know.


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